Page 10 of Falling for the Single Daddy

That’s it. I turn and get into my car. What did I expect? Too much, clearly. Last night—or the morning, really—a dark look came over her face when I asked her why she didn’t sleep deeply.It was like she was reliving an entire movie of evils. Strangely, I wanted to pull her close to me, whispering that it would all be okay. I wanted to help her, save her. But from what? I couldn’t imagine. I’m also possibly reading too much into it for other reasons. Is this what a crush feels like?

Dammit, I need to get my head on straight. I need to remember that I’m twenty years older than her—that if I made a move and she rejected me, it’d ruin the relationship Emery is building with her. I’d been burned before, badly, and I promised myself I’d never let it happen again. I need to remember that a relationship with her cannot, under any circumstances, happen.

***

I stand at my office window, looking out upon the city. I’ve been working for around three hours, mostly brainstorming. Plus, I had a call with a modern art aficionado to discuss possible ideas. I enjoy modern art, but mostly in painting form. My client wants sculptures, so I decided to consult a professional.

My phone makes an alert noise. I take it out and press the camera notification. It shows Callie and Emery returning from the playdate, Emery skipping happily at Callie’s side. Seeing my daughter with a maternal figure fills me with joy, but I must remember. She’s just a nanny. She’s anemployee.

Returning to my desk, I track their movements through the house. They go into the entranceway. Emery looks up at the camera. I switch on the audio in time to see her point and say, “Look, Callie. Daddy’s watching! Hi, Daddy! Say hi, Callie!”

This angle gives me a slight shot of Callie’s cleavage. Her cheeks are flushed, as if she’s been running around as much as my daughter, making her look irresistible.

“Hey,” Callie says with a short wave.

“Can I have a nap, Callie? Before reading time?”

“Of course you can. That’s a great idea. Let me make you a sandwich first.”

I return to work for around thirty minutes, but then I can’t resist the urge. I cycle through the cameras again. Emery is asleep on the couch. I see that Callie has set up the baby monitor nearby, which isn’t strictly necessary, considering our security, but it’s a nice added touch. My daughter sleeps soundly.

I keep moving through the cameras. When I see where Callie is, my shaft floods with heat. My head grows light. My body flares with an urgency I’ve never felt before.

She’s in the home gym wearing shorts and a tank top. The shorts give me a delicious look at her sweat-coated thighs as she works the squat rack. Fuck.Double fuck. I shouldn’t be watching her in there. The camera is facing her back, giving me a view of her ass, her thick mounds becoming shapelier with each rep. I switch on the audio and hear her let out what sounds like a moan with each breath.

She racks the weight and turns, stopping when she sees the red light on the camera. She bites her lip, stares at me, takes a step forward, and keeps staring. It’s almost like she’s challenging me, like she wants to say,Stop watching me. Or maybe she wants me to keep going.

“Hello, Gray,” she murmurs.

My dick stiffens, my tip aching, my heart pounding. I look at my office door. But nobody comes in here without my permission. It’s never happened. My balls feel so full and ready for a release.

I press the microphone button. “Hello, Callie.”

She bites her lip again. Is she doing it on purpose? Driving me nuts?

“Are you watching me for technique tips?” she says with a note of irony. “I’ve only started working out recently. I’m not very good.”

I clear my throat. It’s like we’re playing a game. “Maybe I could giveyousome tips.”

“Hmm…”

Thehmmnoise is again too close to a moan. It makes the tension even more challenging to contain.

“What exercise were you going to do next?” I ask.

“I was going to practice deadlifts. But without any weight. I just wanted to see if I could get the movement right. Maybe you could help with that?”

She says it so innocently, making me wonder if this is really only one-sided or if I’m just a savage, and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a lilt in her voice, almost a challenge, and I’m almost certain she knows. I’m almost sure she’s playing the same game I am.

“Show me what you got,” I say.

She faces me this time, then squats down. Her tits jiggle with each movement. She’s not wearing a sports bra, just a regular bra. I’m almost salivating, goddamn it. My mouth is watering. I’mhungryfor her. If I were there, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from grabbing her, pulling her against me, letting her feel my rock-hard rod and the desire coursing through me.

“That’s good,” I say. “But try pushing your hips forward more. Keep your back straight—more upright.”

“Like this? Oh, oh.”

I ball my hand into a fist. She does another rep, moaning at the end. Conceivably, the moan could be a regular workout noise. It’s the same way I groan at the end of a rep.

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